we sang along to the start of forever
by birdbox
Summary: Emma's always a bit amazed at how well he's nestled himself into the fabric of her life, like he was always meant to be there. Maybe he was. EmmaxHook oneshot.


**we sang along to the start of forever-**_set sometime in the future, it's tooth-decayingly fluffy and nothing really happens other than an abundance of purple prose and established CS domesticity. You have been warned._

* * *

They alternate between hers and Mary Margaret's place and the Captain's Quarters of the Jolly Roger, now moored indefinitely in Storybrooke's docks. The latter is easier in a lot of ways; there is literally nothing more awkward than doing a joint walk of shame with your parents to the breakfast bar in the morning. Emma knows there is only so long she carry on being room-mates with Mary Margaret and David -having her father sitting around reading the paper in the morning when she comes out of her room with her boyfriend is _not_ something any daughter in the world wants. But still, she's reluctant to change things in her life right now so they make it work; when they do stay at hers they make a challenge of finding increasingly creative ways to avoid her parents (he even shimmied down the drainpipe once like a proper teen romance-and that's not something she's going to forget in a while.)

Luckily for them, the Jolly Roger is beginning to feel familiar to her now too. On the way to and from Neverland, she hadn't really appreciated how truly beautiful his ship really is, in the first instance owing to her incredible worry for Henry and in the second because of sheer relief and exhaustion. Now she can explore it with brand new eyes, trace her finger tips over the smooth wood panels and marvel at the craftsmanship and the care that's quite obviously gone into the maintenance of it. She also knows the Jolly Roger is as much a part of him as his flesh and blood, and therefore what else can Emma do but love it too?

And like she's getting to know him (and his 300 plus years of life) she's getting to know his ship too. Emma knows where things are now so she doesn't hesitate when she wakes up thirsty in the early morning. Her body is entangled with his so she has to be very careful not to wake him as she slides over to the edge of the bed and swings her legs over the side. Emma feels around on the floor for the first item of clothing she can find, and it's not before she inhales his oceanic scent embracing her that she realises she's picked up his long shirt instead of her own clothes. Her body is sore in the most exquisite way as she stands and stretches, blissful little memories of last night coming back to her.

Emma heads to the pantry. She's since brought her own supplies to the Jolly Roger, including bottled water, because even though she believes him when he says his method of purifying water has never done him any harm, she's burdened enough with the knowledge of modern medicine and the fear of gastroenteritis that she's not going to take the risk. When she gets back, he's sprawled over the bed with his arms outstretched, snoring lightly. Emma rolls her eyes and slips in beside him again, getting up close so she can press her cheek against his shoulder.

Killian stirs and shifts instantly, his arm going up to bring her closer. His forget-me-not blue eyes open and fall on her. Every day they wake up together, in the tiny seconds between sleep and full cognition, he gives her the same soft satisfied smile—equal parts amazed she's even there and infinitely grateful she is. Emma wonders if she'll ever get used to someone outside a blood relation wanting her around so much.

"Morning, love," Killian murmurs, his voice huskier than usual with sleep. He yawns and stretches languidly, draping his hand over her shoulder. He pinches his own shirt between his fingers bemusedly, tickled by her choice of attire.

"Good morning," she responds, burrowing further into him and the warm bed. "We'll have to get up soon, you know. We're picking Henry up from Regina's at eleven."

She can't lie, her heart melts a little when she sees Killian quite genuinely perk up at the last part of her sentence. There had been a little initial awkwardness and given Henry's fundamentally idealistic heart wanting his mother and father to be together (and no one can blame him for that), she had had to explain to him that she and his father had both accepted that they were over romantically and that wasn't ever going to change. Past that though, the development of Henry and Killian's relationship couldn't have gone any better if she'd planned it herself—both of them know how to run rings around her anyway, and they often annoyingly team up to use that to their advantage.

Emma's glad in any case that between herself, Regina, Mary Margaret, David, Neal and now Killian, Henry's life is now full to the brim with people who love him and want the very best for him. She couldn't have asked for more. And now, Killian's talking animatedly about things they could do together today; for a man more than three hundred years old who had been consumed with a quest for revenge for most of them, he looks so young and carefree. Emma's always a bit amazed at how well he's nestled himself into the fabric of her life, like he was always meant to be there. Maybe he was.

Killian stops himself mid-flow. "...You're staring at me," he observes. "I do like it, love, but I wouldn't mind knowing why."

She pauses, looking for the words. "It's- I'm _happy._"

Emma can't help her smile and the tone of surprise in her voice, because it is surprising. She never expected this, how could she? A happy ending with a huge extended family in a small town in Maine, with Captain Hook of all people at her side. Killian watches her with soft, warm eyes. They've said 'I love you' before, but he seems to know this is almost more important for her.

"Good." He kisses her hair, smiling into it. "I'm glad."


End file.
